Guilty Love
by NMartin
Summary: Regina is tired of hearing people talk, Regina is tired of the guilt that owns her heart. Regina knows, Emma is the only cure for her heartbreak.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - I was writing a second chapter for Too Many Drinks (which you can read if you go to my profile), but the style became so different from the first chapter that I turned it into a story of its own. You can read Too Many Drinks first for some context, or this as an individual story!**

* * *

Regina looks back in time, wondering when it all started, though she knows. It began a month before, a night when they had too many drinks, a night when they flirted and teased each other until there was no flirting and no teasing and they were just them and their bodies moving in synch on the woman's bed. And it had gone on like that for weeks, between fights with their official lovers and whispers of the people in town. They judged, they all did. They still do. It had started as a rumour, but now everyone knows, and everyone talks. They don't know how it happened, they don't know why. They know nothing, they are ignorant. Yet ignorant people like to talk. They talk too much, or at least Regina thinks so.

" _I'm sure they have been doing it for like months. Poor Robin."_

" _I always knew Emma was a dyke."_

" _Regina Mills, always so judgmental, always so "I'm better than anyone else", she's a whore like the ones in the taverns."_

A few minutes after sending the text, steps downstairs in the woman's mansion, Emma is there. She can not call the house a home, she has just spent two nights there, but it is more of a home than the apartment she lives in. She feels sick, her hands shaking, the only cure for her illness nowhere to be seen. _Click, clack, click, clack._ Regina is there. _Click, clack, click, clack._ Regina is upstairs. Emma runs, skipping some steps. She has asked Henry for his key. _Click, clack, click, clack._ The sound becomes louder. _Click, clack, click, clack._ The door opens, Regina turns. Emma steps forward, then again and again. _Click, clack, click, cl—_ Regina is pushed into an armchair, the blonde abruptly on her knees. The woman's brown eyes tearful, full of worry at the sight of green eyes that have no happiness in them anymore. Pencil skirt slowly uncovering olive thighs, green eyes darkening. A small glance into each other's eyes, a pant escaping Regina's lips, a soft nod from the older woman. They both need this, but it has been Regina the one who has called her. Black panties yanked down her legs, thrown away, mouth and tongue finding what they want most. Heavy moans, fingers pulling from blonde curls, high heels digging into the other's back. Swear words, cursing between moans, arms wrapping around legs to pull the other lower on the armchair. Eyes rolling in pleasure, thighs resting on the other's shoulders, nails scratching the ivory leather. A louder moan, nails digging into the other's scalp, hips bucking against wet lips.

A pause, heavy breathing. A shared, tearful look. One of them kneeling opposite to the other, hands on her lover's cheek, foreheads rested together. The guilt is not appeased. Regina whispers and the other stands up, walking to the closet, taking a box from the bottom. A hand taking the harness, the other unbuttoning her pants and pulling them down. _Click, clack, click, clack._ The brunette standing up, walking to the bed, biting her nail delicately as the other walks to the bed. They don't speak a word, Emma sits down on the middle as the other takes off her shirt, then crawls on the bed and straddles her. Hands guiding the toy, she moans, moving lower, taking it in. The pain is soothed, but it is not enough. It is never enough. Fire with fire, she needs it to hurt. She moves up and down, slowly, then faster. The savior's hands on the curve of her back, her mouth biting down on soft flesh of her cleavage. A loud cry, a petition for the other to continue. More bites, all over her cleavage, all over her neck, on her throat, on her collarbone, on her shoulders. Sweat on her skin, the scent all over the room. Moans louder and louder, pants, begging for more. The ache between her legs, about to turn into pure ecstasy, when suddenly it's gone. A gasp as she is pushed on the bed, lying on her back. Hands on her hips, roughly turning her. On her knees, hopeless at the mercy of her lover, the wetness dripping down her leg.

She feels her, inside of her again, in and out so roughly that it hurts. And the pain, that pain she loves so much, that pain she needs, the pain that is bringing her so high that she can't remember her own name anymore. She feels the other's grip, nails digging on her skin, a slap on her bottom, fingers tangling on her hair and pulling her back. She's on her knees now, arms moving back to wrap around the other in search for something to hold onto, finding the other's neck and holding her close. More panting, sweat covering the other's shirt, dripping down her neck and between her breasts, dampening the comfortable bra. A hand sneaking between the black lacy bra of the submissive one, groping her, squeezing with Rage. And it hurts, it really hurts, but god she loves it. She screams in pleasure, seeing the moon and the stars, every constellation and planet in her mind, her universe spinning around them for many seconds. She shakes, she moans, she pants and sighs, until she has no energy anymore and falls forward on the bed. It slides out of her, the harness is unfastened, forgotten on the floor next to the bed. The blonde's hands are on her body, helping her out of the misplaced clothes, freeing her from their gentle grip and making her facade collapse. She does the same with her own clothes, taking them off, leaving them on the floor, not caring about anything but to have the other in her arms.

And they wrap around her, and _oh_ ,it simply feels so good. She is safe, she is protected, she doesn't need anything else. She closes her eyes and breathes out, face buried on the other's bare chest, heat shared by their bodies as they quickly drift to sleep. The guilt is no longer there, and even though they know it will come back, they dream of happiness and peace, of the feeling of their loved one next to them. They don't need anyone else, they don't need them. No one makes them feel like the other makes them feel. Emma is Regina's medicine, and Regina is Emma's. An addictive, destructive, wonderful and perfect medicine. The pain is gone, and it all feels like a dream. But the marks on their bodies are there.

 _And oh, they are witnesses that it has not been a dream._


	2. Chapter 2

Emma is putting stuff on a box, _his_ stuff. From the most ridicule but somewhat charming gift to the most important one, she feels so different from the woman she was with him. She feels numb, she feels weak. And still, she knows. She has always been like that. She opens her closet and sees a jacket she bought for him and that he always leaves in her apartment when he visits. It is soft to the touch, but rough to her mind. She swallows hard and takes it, folding it neatly and leaving it in the box. She walks back to the closet, fingertips lingering over the fabrics of her clothes. She touches red leather, she touches black wool, grey silk. Her eyes fall to a pale pink dress, her heart sinks. There is a pause, she doubts. She always does, even if it's for a moment. She manages for no one to notice, she is a good liar. She inhales deeply and takes the dress from the hanger, bites down on her lip, glances at the mirror. She walks towards it, takes off her shirt, takes off her pants. She puts her hair up in a messy ponytail, she stands barefoot watching herself.

A moment later. the fabric slides on her body, the zipper is pulled up. She knows she should not be doing this, it hurts, it really does. And the pain hurts her too, the pain makes her want to cry, makes her want to die. But she needs it. She stares, and keeps staring, and feels the tears down her eyes. She cries, standing with her hands in fists, her numb body nothing more than just that, a body. She feels like she is outside, watching herself, wandering around her, trying to touch the woman that stands immobile in front of her reflection. She feels like a ghost, away from herself, floating over the floor, hoping to be human. She falls on her knees, the sudden touch of her legs with the floor making her pant. She looks at the phone on her nightstand, reaches for it, speed-dials _her_.

Regina enters the apartment ten minutes later, sweating from running across town, red lips parted at the sight. Emma is curled into a ball, crying, blood on her knee. She whispers something, a tantrum that makes her guilty of hurting the man she loves, that reminds them that they are not free. She whispers she can't breathe, that she feels the dress choking her. The other gazes around the room, trying to find something to cut it away from the other's skin, and yet she finds nothing. She sighs and kneels next to her, hands trying to find the zipper, failing miserably. Her fingertips find the hem of the dress, the so delicate fabric, and she rips it apart. She sighs, starting to tear the skirt apart layer after layer, finding the right spots to rip off the toughest parts, finally sliding it away from the other's body. Emma does not move, does not even look at her. Regina moves her hand to the other's knee, wiping off the blood. She takes her time, staining the piece of pink fabric red, making sure it is clean, then turns to stand up and go find the first aid kit. It's then when she is stopped by Emma's hand, her grip tight around her wrist, pulling her back. She looks into her eyes, sighs, moves on the ground, lies next to her. Her hand finds Emma's stomach, caresses it, tries to calm her down. The other moves, turning to her side, wrapping her arm over the other, clinging to her. Regina's hand is now on the other's back, pulling her close, protecting her from all evil. Emma whispers, she whispers back, the other nods. Regina smiles, turning her face to kiss the other, a gentle kiss. Emma is so vulnerable, so scared, she feels small next to the other. They don't care anyone could come in, they don't care the floor is dirty. They lose themselves into the small kisses, trying to forget the guilt, to forget the miserable emptiness of their hearts.

Regina confesses, she had nothing from Robin. For her, it is easier to pretend it never happened, that it was just a failed fairy dust promise. But Emma has adapted her life to have someone in it, and then has pushed them apart. The story repeats, again and again, a merry go round she wants to get out of. She knows she can't trust anyone, not even herself. She knows, it will be over someday. But at the same time she is still pushing Hook away, she is pulling Regina in. She wants her to be inside that glass tank she lives in, slowly filling with water. She knows her time will be over someday, and if she has to drown, she wants to drown with the woman. She ruined and make her life perfect at the same time, she made her open her heart without needing to speak, she made her feel something more than just love. She made her feel _everything_.

She doesn't know how, she doesn't know why. But suddenly their kisses become heavy, their hands move all over each other, their tongues fight and dance with each other's. Regina's fingers are inside of her, thrusting slowly, hips moving together. They moan, loudly, they pant, they groan. Emma's hands on the woman's bottom, squeezing the soft flesh through her clothes, running up and slipping inside her shirt, nails digging and moving up her back. Again, it hurts, of course it does. But Emma feels the weight of her actions become lighter, she feels the sadness disappear, she feels more than something that wanting to die. She feels alive.

"I love you."

It's just a whisper, just a senseless sentence. Just a thought that comes out loud, that echoes inside Regina's ear, that makes her inhale deeply. She doesn't say anything, just moves to bite on the other's neck, leaving marks all over it, burying her face on her neck and her fingers deeper inside of her. This is new, they know it. This time, after two months of painful encounters, after two months of spending too many nights together, they share something more than guilt.

 _And maybe, just maybe, that something is love._


End file.
